


candlelight

by youknowthelines



Category: Bleach
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youknowthelines/pseuds/youknowthelines
Summary: To play with fire holds a simple enough truth, one that Grimmjow knows down to the bone: you’ll get burnt, eventually. To love fire, he learns, isn’t much different.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 55
Collections: GrimIchi Secret Santa Exchange 2020





	candlelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Empathzu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empathzu/gifts).



> it's not the first time I'm writing for this pairing but omfg that was hard ;-; I kept changing my mind about what would be nice and what wouldn't and if you'd like it or hate it and halfway through I kinda just decided to go with what I had first come up with and try my luck at it. I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope you'll like it! I wish you an amazing holiday and an excellent new year! :D

Kurosaki is a riot hidden beneath a sweet name and bright eyes.

Grimmjow knew that long before he knew him, had heard the rumors, had done his best to ignore the gossip. Kurosaki is a loud idiot with a knack for trouble and a temper easy enough to tease, and seeing him blow up at minimal things has long become one of Grimmjow’s favorite hobbies. Back when they didn’t get along, he made a game out of it, took pleasure in seeing the clenching fists and the hardened jaw, the way Kurosaki’s eyes would zero on him and lose focus on everything else ― back when they didn’t get along, Grimmjow would relinquish in testing his patience, his nature, his strength, and there was nothing else to it.

It feels almost strange, then, that the thing Grimmjow would tease him the most for is the major reason he finds himself falling for the guy ― that he stops paying attention to tense shoulders and sharp remarks and starts waiting for the moment Kurosaki’s eyes will light up with fire, the moment he’ll breath through his lips and square up like he’s getting himself ready for a fight, like he’ll take on the world one inch at time, like there’s nothing out there to stop him.

Ichigo, Grimmjow finds out, is as much of a riot as _Kurosaki_ was ― passionate and outspoken, true to his beliefs no matter what the odds say about it. He’s an idiot, sure, and more often than not Grimmjow finds himself wanting to whack him across the head and pick up a fight none of them will remember the reason for later, but maybe his stubbornness is what made them start to get along in the first place, because he never backed down from Grimmjow’s provocations. Grimmjow will never know, and he’s not wholly interested in knowing, either.

The thing is: where Kurosaki was a raging inferno of witty banter and righteous anger, Ichigo is a gentler thing, like candlelight during a blackout, passion and care through and through ― but those aspects of him, objectively speaking, are not as different as Grimmjow had led himself to believe. Fire will always be fire, no matter if it’s in a pyre or not, and the outcome is an obvious thing: get too close and you might find yourself hurt. Grimmjow’s never been afraid of playing with fire, was never hesitant to throw himself right onto it with minimal thinking involved, but a lot has changed since he and Ichigo met, and he can’t help but fear he has yet to be burned.

They fight almost as much as they did back then ― with a lot less anger involved in it, a lot less ill-aimed provocations, but still. They’re little misunderstandings, mostly, moments where mistakes and missing pieces of a puzzle pile up and end up becoming an argument, but they’re not inherently _bad,_ which perhaps should be enough of a sign that Grimmjow shouldn’t be worrying as much as he is, but. _But._ Grimmjow knows how those things work ― knows he doesn’t get to have good things, doesn’t get to _keep_ them ―, and he’s not keen on being proven right. Maybe that makes him selfish, to grasp his chance at happiness with both hands and refuse to let go, maybe all he’ll get with it is to drown both himself and the fire he longs to keep close, but Grimmjow’s never necessarily been a good person and he has no plans of changing that anytime soon.

It doesn’t soothe him, though, doesn’t solve anything ― knowing he himself has never held onto something so strongly does nothing to stop the little voice at the back of his head that tells him Ichigo might wake up one day and decide to leave, no calls, no explanation, no nothing. It’s ridiculous and Grimmjow is fully aware of it, is certain down to his very bones that Ichigo would _never,_ but the thought is already rooted deep within his chest, the insistent tug that tells him he shouldn’t have gotten so close, shouldn’t have looked at the fire so intently. It wouldn’t be the first time, and that’s a knowledge that rings true, the fact he’ll never be able to change or deny.

Grimmjow wouldn’t consider it a problem if it weren’t _Ichigo_ the reason for such worries ― if the sight of his dumb smile didn’t make his heart do somersaults, if his laughter didn’t make Grimmjow feel like a firecracker inside. There are just so many things he can feel at once before his brain decides to bluescreen, and Ichigo, whether intentionally or not, seems to always seek that.

Which somehow translates into Grimmjow leeching of the Kurosaki’s family food, watching from the couch as the four of them run around trying to get things ready for Christmas ― Grimmjow’s own family was never into the whole comemoration thing, so he mostly eats and watches as Ichigo argues with Twin Number Two about which decorations should go where and why putting up fairy lights all over the walls isn’t a good idea. Ichigo’s father’s somewhere in the kitchen trying ― and failing, if the smell is anything to go by ― to bake holiday sweets, and Twin Number One has gone off somewhere to do something Grimmjow didn’t pay enough attention to, and it’s a mess and a half and _exactly_ the kind of thing Grimmjow would expect from Ichigo’s family.

It’s nice, but it’d be _nicer_ if the nagging little thing hooked inside Grimmjow’s chest weren’t _pulling,_ and he doesn’t quite manage to enjoy himself fully when part of him believes this is not a place he should be in. He knows it’s a tentative spot at best, a try out of sorts ― knows Ichigo’s family _and_ friends had been worried when the two of them started going out together, got a shovel talk from Twin Number Two and a teary talk from Twin Number One, knows they didn’t expect them to last as long as they have done so far. Grimmjow doesn’t even _blame_ them for it, he doesn’t exactly have the best reputation and has done zero things to change that, but he _does_ feel misplaced when all he sees in their eyes all the time are questions about how long it’ll take for them to break.

Grimmjow can’t blame them. Doesn’t _want_ to. To play with fire holds a simple enough truth, one that Grimmjow knows down to the bone: you’ll get burnt, eventually. To love fire, he learns, isn’t much different.

“You’ve been quiet.” is what Ichigo tells him, when they’re finally ‘alone’, way past midnight and wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets in the couch.

Twin Number Two is nested against Twin Number One on the carpet, drooling, and Ichigo’s father has left to his bedroom already. Technically speaking, it’d be the perfect moment for Grimmjow to make his exit ― no sense making Ichigo’s holiday a bitter thing if he can help it, and he can’t just assume an invitation to spend the holiday with them would involve sleeping around. But he’s warm and Ichigo’s chest is soft, and Grimmjow curls closer into him, face pressed against Ichigo’s collarbones.

“Tired.” is his answer, blank, not entirely truthful but not a lie, either.

Ichigo doesn’t buy it.

“They’re a bit too much, aren’t they?” there’s something else in his question, Grimmjow knows ― it’s about the cadence of his voice, the way Ichigo’s arms settle tighter around his middle, a cage from which he has no intention of escaping from.

When Grimmjow looks up at him, Ichigo’s already staring ― gentle features, eyes lit up by the TV movie no one’s watching anymore. It’s a stare he’s gotten used to receiving once they got past the awkwardness of the start of their relationship, that warms him up from inside, but not one Grimmjow knows what to do with. Sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever understand Ichigo fully, of if there’ll always be something new to learn.

“Not at all.” reaching up, Grimmjow cups Ichigo’s face with his hand, lifting himself up so he can press a kiss against the side of Ichigo’s jaw.

He’s been wanting to do it all day ― mouth at the scattered little freckles there, kiss him senseless ―, but, not counting a little peck here and there, Ichigo was busy enough with his family that Grimmjow didn’t want to distract him _more._ It’s strangely freeing to be able to press littering kisses across his boyfriend’s skin, slowly making his way up to his mouth, aiming for the only way of showing affection Grimmjow considers himself good at.

Until Ichigo, in Ichigo fashion, decides to break the moment ― an idiot, obviously; a hopeless idiot Grimmjow is incredibly soft for, which would be funny if it weren’t so _infuriating._

“Yuzu made you a sweater.” he blurts out, to which Grimmjow stops.

He stares. Ichigo stares back like a deer caught in headlights.

“What.” he asks, and it doesn’t sound like a question.

Ichigo looks away for a moment.

“Yuzu knitted you a sweater.” he repeats, slower, almost tentatively. “It’s in my room, if you want it.”

Grimmjow blinks. _I don’t get it,_ he wants to say, but doesn’t ― Ichigo works better when under pressure, and he refuses to do the work for him. A minute goes by. Two. Ichigo fidgets, pulls away to run a hand through his hair before, finally, admitting defeat.

“It’s a family thing.” he looks at Grimmjow again when he says it. “She picked it up as a hobbie and didn’t, like, really get better at it, but she likes to do them. Everyone in the family gains one at Christmas.”

Grimmjow feels a bit like he’s just been thrown into a pyre.

“And she made me one.” he repeats, just to make sure.

“You don’t have to accept it if you don’t want it.” Ichigo’s expression changes minimally ― the twist of his mouth, the twitch of his brow, Grimmjow doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so _anxious._ “I mean, we kinda kidnapped you for the holidays without asking you about it and all, and you _did_ have to deal with that mess at dinner, so she wouldn’t be upset if ―”

“You’re an idiot.” Grimmjow cuts him off, and if there were any worries burning at the back of Ichigo’s mind, they’re immediately forgotten at the sight of Grimmjow’s growing smile. “Give me my ugly sweater.”

“It’s not ugly.”

Grimmjow genuinely doubts that ― the first thing he teased Ichigo about when he saw him was the blue atrocity he’s been wearing all day, with patterns that _could,_ perhaps, one day, look slightly like badly shaped snowflakes and flowers.

“I bet it’s _hideous.”_

He can’t wait to wear it.

To play with fire holds a simple enough truth, one that Grimmjow knows down to the bone: you’ll get burnt, eventually. To love fire, he learns, isn’t much different.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: I had planned to post a little comic along with this but ALAS I didn't find time to finish it ;; BUT I'll probably post it later, so?? I guess it's alright :3


End file.
